


the song inside of me

by Nanimok



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, F/M, Fluff, In this house we ship Lukanette, Lukanette, Post-Silencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 18:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18429569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanimok/pseuds/Nanimok
Summary: Marinette and Luka talk post-Silencer.





	the song inside of me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RenderedReversed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/gifts).



> To Rere, who I love more than Luka loves Marinette (jk that's impossible) and who dragged me into rarepair _**hell.**_

Marinette slips in quietly, arms holding a box behind her back. Like the first time she met him, Luka is sitting on the bed, meditating. Also like the first time and subsequently every time after they met, it only takes a couple of second for Luka to notice her.

“Marinette,” Luka greets, as if he’s tuned to the frequency of her being, beaming at her like the sun beams at a field of flowers basking in its warmth.

Marinette didn’t think anyone could ever _beam_ at the thought of seeing her. What else can she do than flush a little red in her cheeks when faced with such a welcoming smile?

All of a sudden, she is reminded of Anarka’s teasing about keeping Luka’s door open, and how Marinette could only blush and run for her life to Luka’s room in response.

She can already feel Tikki swooning in her bag, and in all honesty, Marinette wanted to swoon with her too, but she shakes herself out of it.

 _Keep it together, Marinette,_ she tells herself. _You’re here on a mission, remember?_

“Hi Luka,” she says, fidgeting with her feet. “Do you have some time to spare?”

“For you?” Luka asks. “Always.” He scoots to the edge of the bed, still keeping the guitar on his lap and rests his feet on the floor. He nods to the other end of the bed in invitation.

His eyes are always so sincere, so _focused_ on her with such an intensity that oftentimes makes Marinette want to look away. But Marinette refrains from looking away from Luka, because this is important to her—his wellbeing is important to her—and looks straight into his eyes.

“I… I wanted to know if you were okay after the whole…” She waves one hand around.

Luka tilts his head.

“…after the whole Silencer incident,” Marinette says. “I also wanted to give you this.”

She shoves a pink box towards him with more force that she intended to, her heart racing towards her throat.

Luka seems pleasantly surprised. “A present?” he asks. “For me?”

Fuelled by the heat that’s threatening to consume her whole face, Marinette nods furiously.

“I don’t know _what_ I did to deserve such a privilege but I’m hardly going to refuse it,” Luka says in delight.

Marinette slaps both hands to her cheek and Luka unwraps the box open. Why does he keep _saying_ things like that! Things that are—are so _sweet_ and _kind—_ and doesn’t he know that if keeps lavishing her with all these compliments she might just explode?

“Oh,” Luka says upon opening his gift. “ _Oh_ ,” he says again. “ _Marinette_ … This is… this is beautiful! I know I said I couldn’t deny you anything but this is—this is too _grand_ —”

Luka breaks off to run his hands against the gift Marinette meticulously sewed for him. A black strap with a white music stave running through it embellished with white flowers and music notes matching the colours of his hair. Handsewn on the stave in a font styled like music notes is the name ‘ _Luka Couffaine.’_

It took Marinette days to find threads in the right shade of aquamarine blue. She _had_ to get it just right. It was Luka’s favourite colour and Marinette wouldn’t have anything less.

And as she watches the reverent way Luka is touching his guitar straps, Marinette knew that all the hours spent sewing and all the new callouses formed her finger tips were worth it.

“You must, Luka,” she insists. “It’s yours. It’s completely yours.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’,” Marinette says, acting on a burst of sudden courage. “I made this for you and _only_ you. To _thank_ you. For the way you stood up to Bob Roth when he stole our concepts.”

Luka laughs. “Marinette,” he says, softly. “I hardly need a reward to fight for what was clearly stolen from us. Besides you were right beside me fighting along the way!”

“I know!” Marinette says. “It’s just that—you were more upset about my designs being stolen than your _own_ music—so upset that you were even _akumatized…_ ”

Luka frowns. “Is this gift your way of apologising to me? Because you have nothing to apologise for and I won’t stand for you thinking that you do.”

“No!” Marinette says hurriedly. “No—it’s just— _argh_!” She flops back onto Luka’s bed, covering her face. “Words are hard,” she mumbles.

Never really, aside from her parents, has little, timid Marinette felt like a _priority_ over someone like _Ladybug._ Over someone as amazing and as doted on as France’s number one sweetheart! Yet isn’t that what Luka has done time and time again? Asked for Marinette first and everything else second?

She doesn’t even know how to begin describing the warmth she feels every time she thinks about it. Every time she thinks about Luka, she feels light and dizzy and so _unbearably_ happy, that she craves to know more about him.

Briefly, Marinette realises that Luka has been playing his guitar in the background, its calm, strummed notes unknotting the tension in Marinette’s shoulders.

“Better?” Luka asks.

“Yes,” she says, rising back up into sitting position. “Much better. How do you always know which piece to play at the right moment?”

Luka hums. “I don’t, really. But it’s just so easy whenever I’m with you. You inspire such music in me.”

“I do?”

“Absolutely,” Luka says. “I become my most creative self whenever you’re here.”

There Luka goes again, speaking sweet words in a way that’s so simple and sincere that it threatens to make Marinette’s heart burst.

“I wouldn’t peg myself to be someone who inspires music in other people,” she says. “The only thing people seem to do when they’re around me is get akumatized.”

“But you’ve never been akumatized yourself. That clearly counts for something.”

 _If he only knew,_ Marinette thinks.

“You’re too kind, Luka,” she says. “But you know, you never really answered my question…?”

Luka sighs. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have noticed that.”

Marinette ducks her head in apology. “I’m sorry,” she says. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just find that, from other people, it helps if you have someone to talk about it.”

“There’s need to be sorry,” Luka says. “You’re right on many counts. Sometimes, words are a struggle to string together.”

The notes he’s been absentmindedly strumming turns slightly discordant. Conflicted.

“Seeing Bob Roth threaten you was infuriating,” Luka says. “He had no right to be threatening you. I could feel the power in the mask—that I could make him admit that he stole your designs _—_ and it felt so _good_ to put the mask on. I didn’t care how dangerous I was to other people. I only cared that Roth gave back the credit he took from you.”

Suddenly, Luka stops strumming. He frowns in thought. “I still do feel like that, in a way, and that worries me—that me feeling this way could get me akumatized at any moment. But I don’t want to stop and I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or not.”

Marinette shoots forward in defense. “No! You’re not a bad person, Luka. You can’t let yourself think that way. What Bob Roth did was wrong, and that made you angry. Rightfully so, and Hawk Moth took advantage of that—”

“It’s okay, Marinette.” Luka pats her hand “I’m starting to make my peace with it. If anything else, the whole ordeal helped me understand myself better.”

“Oh.” Marinette blinks. “Okay. How so?”

“It confirmed something that I’ve always known, really,” Luka says. “You’re an extraordinary girl, Marinette. Not once will I ever hesitate to fight for you.”

He says it with the same sincerity as when they had talked before, after the Silencer and before KittySection performed on live television. And as before, Marinette is speechless, sitting there and staring in awe with her face going as red as Tikki’s.

“T-thank you,” she stutters out, feeling on the verge of _exploding_ from both joy and embarrassment all at once. “I don’t deserve you, Luka.”

“Nonsense,” Luka says. “But that’s enough from me. Was there anything else you wanted me for?”

 _Yes,_ Marinette wanted to say, even if she didn’t exactly _know_ what she wants Luka _for._ She just knows that she wants to be _here_ beside Luka right now.

“Yes, actually,” she decides. “Could you…”

From where he’s currently attaching the strap Marinette made onto his guitar, Luka nods at her to go on. “Could I…”

“Could you play the piece you played the first time we met?”

“Of course!” Luka says, even more delighted that she would ask for his music. “For you, Marinette? Anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Love and support Marinette or I will." - Luka Couffaine 2019


End file.
